You Bring Spring Right to my Door
by Yessica-N
Summary: My fills for Snufmin Appreciation Week 2019 because I can't get enough of these soft gays
1. Flowers

**It's Snufmin week ya'll**

**Day 1: Flowers**

* * *

The first time Moomin made him a flower crown, Snufkin was quite sure his friend had picked the flowers randomly. Perhaps thoughtful only of their prettiness, the way the petals had already unfurled in preparation for the hot weather, or which colors looked well together.

"They're beautiful," He had said, admiring the care Moomin had taken in braiding the stems together. Not quick or thoughtless, the way you might do if you're bored or in a hurry. But meticulously, attentive, secure... Everything that distinguished Moomin himself really. "You put quite a bit of work into this I dare say."

Moomin smiled, but he seemed embarrassed at being caught out. He rubbed the back of his head with a paw and looked away. "Ah, yes. Of course. I didn't want it to fall apart too quickly."

Snufkin nodded as he took off his hat and put the flower crown in its place instead. He had worn flowers as decorations on the hat itself of course, but that wasn't really what Moomin had intended here, was it? "What do you think, then?"

The troll finally forced his eyes back to him, blinking for a second. "You-" But he stopped himself quickly, though he leaned forward just the tiniest bit. "It's wonderful, Snufkin. They're wonderful. And they really fit you!"

Snufkin wondered what Moomin was about to say in that fleeting moment.

"I'm glad." He said instead, smiling too, and he had worn the flower crown well into summer, when the petals started shedding and Moomin's hard work eventually did give in to the tug of the elements.

He had been too self-conscious back then to ask for Moomin to make him a new one and mostly forgot about it really, as summer turned steadily into autumn, and he busied himself with preparations for the journey he would soon undertake.

* * *

But come spring, Moomin once more waited on the bridge and came to him with something clenched behind his back.

"Buttercups?" Snufkin asked, taking the crown of yellow flowers from his friend's paws. He felt his face heat up suddenly, but ignored it stubbornly. "Whatever for?"

Moomin faltered, swinging his feet above the river and bracing himself against the wood of the bridge. There were small ripples in the water, reflecting their image in uneven waves. "Mamma has been teaching me a bit about the meaning of flowers," He explained. "These mean 'welcome home', right?"

Snufkin always was the kind of person to overthink things. "Right."

"Don't you like them?" Moomin asked, shoulders sagging just the tiniest bit and Snufkin snapped back to the present startlingly fast, patting the other's arm reassuringly.

"Of course I do," He assured, putting the crown on quickly so he could have both hands free to reel in the line of his fishing rod, which had gone taunt with the first catch of the season. "It's good to be back."

He didn't think much on it really after that. Not when Moomin gave him the forsythia. Not when Moomin gave him the pink camellia. Not even when Moomin handed him the crown of carefully arranged red tulips.

Then autumn came, trailing into the valley slowly, turning the days shorter and the air colder and Moomin watched him with weary eyes, waiting for him to announce when he would be leaving again.

Snufkin knew how much his friend hated it. But Moomin had come to accept it in the way that he did everything, with quiet toleration. Still, he seemed more than a little reluctant to let go of his hand.

"I have something for you," He admitted finally. "It's a parting gift of sorts."

Snufkin could have guessed it would be another flower crown of course. Moomin knew how little he cared for practical things. But he still didn't know exactly what to say as he took them from his friend, the delicate petals of acacia and jonquils laying soft in his hands, woven together intricately as ever.

"Moomintroll, Did y-" He started, but Moomin stopped him suddenly, letting go and taking a step back.

"I thought they looked wonderful together, don't you?" Another step back and there was something pained in his expression. Oh, Snufkin didn't like that all.

He left the valley with a heavy heart that autumn.

* * *

It took an eternity for spring to arrive that particular year. Snufkin had made himself sick with anxiety in those months, rethinking every single moment that came before it and at one point entertaining the thought of not returning at all.

Though in the end that would be even more unbearable than anything else.

Moomin was waiting for him as usual. He didn't say anything about their goodbye so Snufkin didn't either. He told him about his journey and left out all the times he was kept awake at night by tremulous worries and fickle emotions.

He didn't receive any more flower crowns.

It was not as if something had changed between them. Moomin was as he always was, radiant in every way possible. And Snufkin admired him, as he always did. But that didn't help the fact that every touch made him hesitate, every laugh made him falter. When Moomin looked at him it was like Snufkin saw him for the very first time all over again.

Surely he was just being stupid.

He was almost desperate enough to ask Little My for help, who had noticed his distress and taken to prying at it at every opportunity, because she disliked being left out probably. Or maybe she just found it amusing.

She was lying on her stomach and pelting rocks into the river, scaring away the minnows he was trying to catch. Snufkin was a patient person, and not prone to much annoyance at all. He much preferred to be alone when he was thinking difficult things over however.

"Why don't you go bother Moomin?" He asked softly, keeping his voice casual. "Maybe he can keep you company."

She rolled over on her back, frowning up at him in displeasure. "Don't you know?"

He watched intently as the current of the river pulled on the reel, making it bob slightly. "Know what?"

"Moominmamma gave him a book last year that he hasn't stopped reading since." She sighed. "Surely he knows it by heart now. I think he's waiting for something."

"And what book would that be?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes at his questions. "I don't know," She gestured her hands impatiently. "'The language of flowers' or something like that. Lots of text and no pictures, incredibly dull really."

"Is it?" He asked, but didn't listen to her response. Indeed, he could be such an absolute fool sometimes.

* * *

"I brought you something." He held out the flowers tentatively, part of him prepared for Moomin to refuse them. They weren't as nice as his friend's own efforts had been, woven together sloppily and hastily. "I'm sorry they're not very pretty."

Moomin took them slowly, turning them over in his paws a few times. "Are these..."

"Ambrosia flowers," Snufkin explained, pulling up his scarf awkwardly. He wasn't usually this bashful but right now he felt like he'd rather be invisible than anything else. "I thought they would fit you."

For a moment Moomin just stared at the flowers, considering them. The smile that broke out on his face was shaky at first, accompanied by a few rapid blinks. Then it turned into a full-on grin.

"They're wonderful." He looked up at Snufkin and there was something so fragile about him, it made the sun pale in comparison. "You're wonderful."

Moomin wore them all through the rest of summer, and when the flowers wilted Snufkin always made him a new one.

* * *

**The meaning of the flowers are as follows for those curious:**

**Buttercups - Could mean "Welcome home" but also used as a compliment as in "I think you're beautiful/You dazzle me"**

**Forsythia - Anticipation**

**Pink camellia - Longing**

**Red tulips - Declaration of love**

**Acacia - Concealed love**

**Jonquils - Unanswered desires/Unrequited love**

**Ambrosia flowers - "Your love is reciprocated"/Mutual love**


	2. Home

**Day two baby, home**

* * *

Years ago, when Moomin first met Snufkin, he had asked him where his home was.

Snufkin had told him his home was everywhere and nowhere, shrugging while saying it like it was the most normal thing in the world to him. And Moomin had been impressed, more than anything. Because right then it had sounded almost magical.

But in reality, it also had made him kind of sad.

He couldn't put his finger on why. Some things are just too complicated to put into words, even if you sit around for a very long time and ponder on them. But he supposed it had something to do with the blue house on the hill, with the cozy rooms and the family dinners, and the way Mamma hugged him when something upset him.

"Will you come back?" He had asked, that first autumn, clenching his hands in front of himself. He didn't want Snufkin to know how distressed he felt. It was an inconsiderate thing, really.

Snufkin tipped back his hat a little and smiled. That easy, carefree smiling he did sometimes. It made Moomin's heart skip a beat. "I'll be back in spring." He said.

"You promise?" Moomin hadn't meant for it to slip out. Because a promise was like an obligation, a rope that bound you to your word irrevocably, and which you could either get out of by following through with it or breaking it.

Snufkin hated obligations.

"I promise." Came the answer, with no trace of hesitance. "I'll come back to the valley."

Moomin swallowed and nodded, obstinate in not letting anything else escape him. Part of him wanted to cry still.

* * *

"The weather is quite dreadful." Moominmamma commented, setting the table for dinner while Moomin lay on the couch, pretending to read a book. "Perhaps the worst storm we had all season."

He didn't answer, turning another page he hadn't actually read. The rain was coming down by the buckets, slamming against the windows with none of the comforting sounds a spring shower normally brought with it. When lightning cracked the sky, Moomin thought of Snufkin, all by himself in his tent, and ached. There came a knock at the door and he jumped up, grateful for a reprise from his worrying.

He was very surprised to see the very subject of his contemplations standing on their doorstep.

"I do not mean to impose," Snufkin began uneasily. "But if it's not too much trouble, perhaps I could uh- Stay inside your house for a little while."

He had taken off his hat, hanging sodden and limp in his grip. His hair was similarly soaked, darker in color than usual, and there was already a small puddle forming around his feet. Moomin stepped aside hastily.

"Of course," He watched as Snufkin gingerly wiped his feet on their doormat, though it did little to remedy all the mud clinging to it. "I was just thinking about you."

Snufkin looked up in surprise and Moomin almost physically clamped a hand over his mouth at his own lack of tact. Why was it so hard for him to keep his mouth in check?

But his friend just smiled, something much like amusement caught on his face. He seemed about to say something, but Moominmamma chooses this exact moment to join them at the door, wiping her paws on a kitchen towel.

"Snufkin," She said, voice warm. "Come to take refuge from this horrible weather have you?"

"Only if it doesn't trouble you too badly," He explained, holding up his drenched hat with one hand. "It seems my tent has a bit of a leaking problem. I won't stay long."

"Nonsense," She ushered him further into the house eagerly, either not noticing or not caring at the mess he left in his wake. "We were just about to have dinner, I'll set you a plate."

"Really, I don't w-" Snufkin started to protest feebly, sputtering a bit but naturally he went completely ignored by Moominmamma.

"You are always welcome in our home." She said fondly, and Moomin could see the statement made Snufkin tense up slightly, uncomfortable at the obvious display of sentiment maybe.

Or at the fact that it was a guarantee, a promise.

"There's really no need," He said quickly, gazing at his feet. "Sorry about your floor."

Moominmamma ignored that too, fussing over him in her usual manner, and Moomin thoughtfully didn't tell Snufkin how glad he was that he was there.

* * *

"Why can't I come with you?"

He hated himself almost before the words had left his tongue. It tasted vile, like bile rising up in his throat but getting stuck halfway.

He had even promised never to ask again. He really was selfish.

Snufkin didn't answer immediately. Moomin hoped he hadn't heard him, that he could play it off as something else maybe. That he could pretend he hadn't said anything and they could go back to five minutes before, when things were still easy.

But of course Snufkin had heard.

"Go home, Moomintroll."

It stung. He blinked back tears he didn't want to ever be there. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe apologize, but Snufkin didn't let him.

"I have to leave now," He wasn't even looking at him anymore. "Just go home."

Moomin watched his best friend's back disappear between the trees, without asking him again if he would be coming back.

You just don't make promises you can't keep.

* * *

"I didn't know where else to go."

Snufkin had his eyes closed, his voice barely above a whisper, and as Moomin felt his forehead with one paw, he noticed it was still rather warm, but nowhere near the disconcerting temperature it had been yesterday.

"It's good that you did." He said, trying not to sound too reproachful.

Snufkin inched his eyelids open, his eyes were dark and kind of far away. Like he wasn't really completely there. Moomin wondered if he would recall this conversation in the morning.

"Remember what I told you when we met?" He asked suddenly. Moomin had to lean in real close to understand him, pressing his paws into the mattress. They brushed against Snufkin's side lightly. "About my home being nowhere and everywhere?"

"I remember."

"I lied," Snufkin admitted quietly, frowning just a little bit. "I don't think I have a home at all."

Moomin bit his tongue. It hurt, in a lot of ways. It hurt very much. But he didn't want to say something selfish again. He didn't want to say something _bad._

So he pressed their foreheads together instead, felt the heat radiating from Snufkin's skin and well, odds are Snufkin isn't going to remember in the morning either way. He can say something a little selfish.

"You do now."

Some promises were sacred and could't be broken. Only splintering them both into tiny pieces, shattered at every corner, could undo what they've made.

The worst kind of obligation.

Snufkin sighed, his exhale tickled against Moomin's fur, and he was still whispering but Moomin could hear him clear as day.

"I'm glad."

* * *

Moomin had yet to find a way to make summer last forever.

He had been searching for it, for the longest time. For a way to not need promises at all, fragile as they are. To just keep Snufkin with him forever and ever and never let go.

Selfish.

"Will you come back?"

Snufkin laughed, light and easy, as he throws his backpack over one shoulder. It sounded like music to Moomin's ears. "I'll be back in spring."

"You promise?"

Reaching out, intertwining their fingers together for a brief moment, Snufkin looked as if he was seriously needing to consider it, but Moomin knew he was just teasing.

"I promise." He said at length, letting go reluctantly. "I'll come home, as always."

And at the end of the day that's the only promise Moomin needed.


	3. Singing and Dancing

**Day 3 was singing or dancing but I did both because go big or go home ya know**

* * *

Snufkin wasn't very fond of parties. He wasn't good with loudness, nor with company really.

It was all fine as long as they were small gatherings, confined to a handful of friends at most. Like the kind of get-togethers Moominmamma would organize in spring. They would all go down to the beach together and swim or fish or hunt for caves, and afterwards they would sit around a bonfire and watch the sky grow dark enough to count the stars, tracing mirage images of the constellations into the sand.

But this was more difficult. Snufkin didn't know if the entire valley had turned out for this event, or if that was just what it felt like to him because he wasn't used to crowds. He balanced his weight on one foot, then the other, nervously, hoping nobody would notice. Moomin was off to his side, talking to an overly-eager Fillyjonk, who had dressed up excessively for the event and insisted on making small talk with everybody while sipping her drink politely.

It was more of a casual affair really, the midsummer festival, but she didn't seem to know that. There were long wooden tables covered in colorful cloth and positively creaking under the weight of their contents: various snacks and beverages brought by the residents of the valley. Somebody had strung paper lanterns in the trees and there were children running around barefoot while their parents joked among themselves and broke out in raucous laughter.

Truthfully, Snufkin didn't stand out among them at all. He just felt like he did, self-conscious about the dirt on his trousers and the way the Fillyjonk giggled, holding one paw in front of her mouth as if it were a crime should anybody see her being too amused.

Moomin had greeted her courteously, listened to her complain about the lack of rain and the lack of sun and the lack of clouds, but even as well-mannered as he was the poor troll couldn't help making a face when she finally turned her back on them, already focused on some other victim to annoy with her chatter.

Snufkin laughed quietly. "She seemed... cultivated."

Moomin chuckled, just a little, before grabbing his hand. Snufkin let him, following as Moomin led him over to the nearest table, where some of their friends were sitting.

"Well, she is always like that. She thinks everything is a formal event. It's not though, really," Moomin confided. He knew of Snufkin's dislike of those kind of stuffy things.

Snufkin observed the array of food before him. Moominmamma had contributed too, providing pancakes with jam for the guests to enjoy, as well as raspberry juice. Moomin asked him if he would like some, but he reluctantly refused, feeling his stomach was too much in a knot to enjoy them.

Sniff did not seem to be suffering the same fate. He had already cleaned off several plates of various sizes and was busily working on the next one. Little My had him almost matched though, and she was not even half his size. Snufkin always marveled at how such a little Mymble could eat that much.

"Are you both enjoying yourself?" Too Ticky asked, one elbow on the table and Snufkin could see she wasn't entirely comfortable herself. He could relate to that. "I do believe the whole valley turned up and then some."

"The midsummer festival is about the most interesting thing that ever goes on around here," Little My commented between mouthfuls. "Something crazy always happens. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I think something crazy always happens because you make it so," Moomin sighed. Snufkin hadn't been there but even he had heard of the electric eel incident that had led to last year's event almost ending in disaster. "Do you have any big plans for this year?"

"Not really," She admitted. "But we'll see where the night takes me."

Snorkmaiden sighed pointedly. "It won't take us anywhere at this dreadful pace." She inclined her head vaguely towards the improvised dance floor, a thin layering of wooden planks laid out in the grass, but completely devoid of dancers. Which wasn't very surprising, considering there was no music either. "I'm afraid no musicians showed up yet."

"Why doesn't Snufkin play?" Sniff asked, apparently he wasn't too occupied with his food to still pay attention. "He's very good, isn't he?"

If Snufkin didn't feel like all eyes were on him before, he certainly did now.

"I- No, I don't-" He started, feeling the mortification of being put on the spot like this creep down the back of his throat already. It wasn't even like he had never played for an audience before, though significantly smaller than this one. That didn't mean the very thought didn't make him want to disappear.

"Oh, please Snufkin," Snorkmaiden's eyes practically lighted up at the suggestion. "I would love to dance to your music tonight."

Moomin turned to him too and Snufkin registered the excitement on his face with unease. "Won't you, Snufkin? I love it when you play for us."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Too Ticky quickly provided and for that Snufkin was more than a little thankful, even if it was lost in the enthusiasm of his other friends.

"Of course not," Moomin agreed, but it was plain to see that he would be dissapointed if he didn't. "But you're such a good musician."

"And a singer too," Little My suddenly piped up, and Snufkin threw her a glance that was equal parts annoyance and desperation. "Do you remember, Snufkin?"

Their commotion had made several other guests turn their attention towards them and various mumbles had broken out among the crowd.

"Is Snufkin going to play music? I want to hear."

"I don't think I've ever heard him play before, how exciting."

"Oh, I wonder if he's really as good at it as they say."

Snufkin could feel his face heat up unpleasantly. He didn't mind playing, for Moomin or for their friends, or sometimes even for strangers. But this was just too much. He pushed his hands into his pockets, where the mouth organ was, but could only bring himself to curl a fist around. Then he turned around and ran.

* * *

Moomin caughtt up with him almost immediately, the distanced sounds of the party a vague buzz hanging heavily in the hot air. Snufkin stopped, and his friend stopped too, putting his paws on his knees to catch his breathe.

"I'm sorry," He said, because he didn't know what else to say. This was the second time Snufkin ruined a party for Moomin by being like this and he hated it.

"It's fine," Moomin was standing next to him in a heartbeat. "I wasn't having that much fun anyway."

"Weren't you?"

With a shrug, Moomin grabbed his hand again. "Not really. Snorkmaiden was right, parties are rather boring without music."

Snufkin nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't play tonight."

"Don't be," Moomin squeezed lightly. "Though I am rather surprised."

"Oh?"

"That I could have known you for so many years and still learn new things about you. It's quite enthrancing."

"Little My shouldn't have said that." He muttered, looking away while the now familiar warmth graces his cheeks again. "I only really did that when I was a child."

"Singing?" Moomin inquired.

"Sometimes," He said. "My father liked songs."

"Can you sing for me?"

Snufkin hesitated, then nodded again. If it's just Moomin it should be fine, and he has to make up for what he did. "What would you like to hear?"

"You decide," His friend let go, taking a step back.

After a moment deliberation, Snufkin closed his eyes. The song he chose is one he has heard a lot, very long ago. The Joxter sang it to him sometimes, about birds and linen shirts and sleeping on the grass when the dew is still fresh. He remembered being so eager to learn all the words by heart.

The notes were easy, he imagined the finger placements that go along with it if he were to play it on his mouth organ, but instead they're just coming out of his mouth instead. His voice didn't carry, soft and delicate.

It was a short song and when he was done he waited another moment. He felt silly, but then Moomin was beaming at him, as if awestruck by his performance.

"Snufkin," He said in astonishment. "Little My was right. You have a beautiful voice."

"She didn't say that exactly," Snufkin answered with some embarrassment, but he was rather pleased by the possitive reaction. He was spared from having to comment further though, when suddenly the distant noise swelled into actual music. It seemed those musicians arrived at last.

"It sounds like Snorkmaiden will get her concert after all," He said instead. "You should go back, I wouldn't want to be the one to keep you from dancing tonight."

"You don't have to be," Moomin answered, holding out one paw and Snufkin couldn't help but laugh a bit at the other's dignified manner, back bent and perfectly posed. "I think together we could manage."

He laughed and bowed back. "How civilized of you, dear Moomintroll. You are clearly a creature of culture."

"Very cultivated," Moomin joked, though he did a good job at keeping his face straight. "May I have this dance, kind sir?"

"Most certainly."

They each took a few steps back, waiting for the music to pick up in rhythm. Snufkin hadn't really danced before, not like this anyway, but he had seen it often enough to get the general idea. The steps were easy, and so was the twirling. Somewhere along the way his hat flies off and comes to rest in the grass but neither cared. When Moomin lay one paw in his, braced an arm against his waist, and they spun until there was no more air in their lungs, Snufkin found he didn't care at all if he belonged at the party anymore.

He belonged with Moomin.


	4. Fancy or Formal

**I'm one day behind aaaaa**

**Day 4: Formal/Fancy**

* * *

Snufkin wasn't very fond of parties. Everybody knew that.

Moomin in particular had experienced first hand the kind of anxieties his boyfriend could work himself into when it came to those kind of things. Snufkin didn't like formal events. He didn't like large amounts of people or having too much attention on him at any given moment.

He especially didn't like being expected to sit still for a very long time while people made meaningless small talk about inconsequential things.

Good thing this party wasn't like that at all. Snufkin had still been reluctant to come of course, but Moomin had been able to gently persuade him, using both the fact that it was almost autumn as well as the event being organized at the Moominhouse itself to his advantage. There wouldn't be many more people than just their family and friends. And while he didn't mention it, it would only be a few more days before Snufkin would be leaving.

They had to make the most out of the time that remained.

So it was that Moomin was pacing the house impatiently, helping his mother set up some snacks and beverages on the table to disperse his own nervous energy. He fiddled with the buttons on his jacket and the silk ribbon around his tail, undoing and redoing it several times.

He wondered what Snufkin would think of his clothing. For the fall equinox, dressing up was as much of a tradition as anything else, but this was going to be the first time they saw each other in formal attire. Moomin thought it was quite exciting. He himself was wearing a proper shirt even, one his father had grown out off for some time now. His jacket on the hand was just a bit too big, but Moomin liked the colorful embroidery along the sleeves, and the golden buttons in two rows down the front.

He just really hoped Snufkin would like them too.

And maybe secretly he was also very curious about how the other would be dressed. Moomin had never really seen his boyfriend in anything other than his regular well-worn coat. This is why, when at last there was knocking on their door and Moomin rushed over to open it, he was quite startled to see Snufkin looking nothing different than usual.

"Snufkin," He exclaimed. "You're not dressed?"

Snufkin looked down at himself then, almost as if he hadn't noticed himself, and grinned slightly. "Really? I do believe I am."

Moomin shook his head, ignoring the joke completely. "Didn't I tell you about the tradition?" For a moment he wasn't sure if he did actually.

Snufkin squeezed past him to get inside. "Of course you did," He said calmly. "I would have really liked to honor it with you. Sadly though, I do not own any other clothes. Certainly not fancy ones like yours. You look lovely, regardless."

The compliment went ignored too, for Moomin was too busy with laying one paw against his own face, embarrassed. He could be such an idiot sometimes.

"You're right," He admitted weakly. "I am sorry for not realizing sooner."

Snufkin didn't look overly bothered by the situation, but for his part Moomin felt slightly deflated. He had been looking forward to this too.

Then an idea hit him, and he grabbed for his boyfriend's hand before he could make it further into the house. "Never mind all that, I have a plan."

"Do you now?" Snufkin didn't seem completely convinced but Moomin wouldn't let that curb his enthusiasm, or his sudden spark of brilliance. Together they headed up the staircase and into Moominpappa's study. This particular room was filled with all kinds of peculiar things his father had collected over the years, from ships in a bottle to animal teeth to dusty old books.

Coincidentally, Moominmamma had taken to using the study as a storage room for everything that didn't spoil but didn't serve an immediate use. Things that really didn't have any proper place, but were too pretty or valuable to be thrown away.

In one corner there sat a large wooden chest with leather fastenings, creased from use. Moomin opened it triumphantly, while Snufkin just stared at the contents. Fabrics of all colors and kinds were completely disorganized here, but it was plain these were clothes. Very fancy ones at that.

"Moomin," He said, throwing his boyfriend an uncertain glance. Moomin knew that glance very well and also knew exactly what to do about it.

He smiled sweetly, leaning close against the other, while still holding on to his hand. "Please, Snufkin? For me?"

With a small hum, Snufkin conceded. "Anything for you, my dear Moomintroll," He bend over the chest and rummaged through it for a bit. "Let's see then, shall we? This might not fit me at all."

"Don't say that. I'm sure it will look wonderful."

Snufkin held up a button-up that probably had enough room for three of him. "I meant size wise." He explained. "Though that too. I don't think any of these are really something I'd be comfortable in-" He broke off suddenly and smiled wider.

"I don't think that's ours," Moomin said, looking over his shoulder at what had made him stop talking so unexpectedly. "Snorkmaiden probably left it here at some point and forgot about it."

"It's perfect."

Moomin went outside and waited for Snufkin to change. He could hear the voices of his family from downstairs, and the music Moominpappa was playing on the gramophone. Eventually the door opened again and Snufkin stepped out, hands clenched in front of himself.

The outfit was just slightly too big on him, much like Moomin's own. The white blouse had long, loose-fitting sleeves that covered a tad more of Snufkin's hands than was usual. It was tucked into the skirt at the waist, which was laced tightly at the back. The skirt itself just about reached the floor and was adorned with vertical striped of red, yellow, blue and green. He had left his hat behind as well.

"So, what do you say?" Snufkin asked at length, at which point Moomin realized he had been staring without saying a word, awestruck.

"It's beautiful," He said quietly, but he knew his boyfriend had heard because his cheeks tinged slightly red.

"You think so?" Snufkin turned around in a circle, as if trying to look at himself from a different angle, and Moomin noticed he had also taken a silk ribbon from the chest and tied it around his own tail, so that they matched.

"I think I was right," He said then, maybe just the tiniest amount of self-satisfied amusement slipping into his voice. "You do look wonderful."

"So you were," Snufkin brushed past him, lifting up the hem of his skirt with both hands so as to not trip on his way down the stairs. "I do believe Moomimpappa is playing a waltz? Shall we go and dance again?"

Moomin trailed after him happily. When they got downstairs everybody was very surprised. Just like Moomin, none of them had seen Snufkin in anything other than his outdoor clothes before and also just like Moomin, they thought it was a good look.

"Yes, well," Snufkin answered haltingly, though Moomin could see he was blushing so hard even his ears had turned red this time. He giggled, but took mercy and diverted everybody's attention by suggesting they dance now, just as Snufkin had mentioned.

It was a lot slower than the one they had shared at the midsummer festival a few weeks before, intimate even, with intertwined fingers and their bodies pressed close together.

And Moomin didn't think about the end of summer for the rest of the evening.


	5. Kissing and Holding Hands

**I combined days 5 and 6 into one since they were Holding Hands and Kissing, which were similar enough for me to count as one. **

**This is pretty half-assed ngl**

* * *

Snufkin loved hearing Moomin talk.

It was strange. Not in the sense that Snufkin was more of a listener than a talker, though that was certainly true also. But he usually found himself too unconnected from people to actually be much good at it.

Often he thought it difficult. Most conversations revolved around either connecting with each other by finding some relatable experience (Snufkin quickly discovered that while he had plenty of experiences, not many of them were considered relatable) or sharing some kind of deep emotional feeling (Snufkin had plenty of those as well, but none that he liked sharing with just anyone he met).

With Moomin things were different, a lot easier anyway. He could spend hours just sitting somewhere and listening to Moomintroll tell him things. Sometimes they were about experiences and sometimes they were about emotions and Snufkin really didn't dislike either. But sometimes Moomin just talked about nothing and he liked that more still.

"I think it's beautiful," Moomin sighed, softly. Like maybe he didn't quite want Snufkin to hear him. He moved his head just a bit, but a sharp tug on his hair made it so he couldn't exactly turn around and see what his boyfriend was going on about.

He had a sinking suspicion he already knew though. "It's inconvenient."

"Really?" Moomin stopped braiding abruptly, Snufkin felt the troll's hold on the strands slacken and he could probably turn around now but then he would risk ruining all that hard work, so he kept still instead.

"I meant the length, not the braids," He explained. "It's getting hard to keep tidy. Not to mention it tends to get in my face at times. Very bothersome."

Moomin resumed braiding carefully, trying not to pull too tight. From time to time Snufkin felt him pause and pick another flower to weave into the braid. "You should ask Mamma to cut it for you then."

"I know," Snufkin said, because he did. He didn't add why he was so reluctant to actually do that though. Because it meant they wouldn't be able to do this anymore. Sit together and have him listen while Moomin talked about everything and nothing and all that fell in between. His boyfriend never really expected him to do much talking during these times, and that was also nice.

Moomin's paws moved through his hair carefully. It always had a horrible habit of getting incredibly tangled, especially when it got long like this.

"I think it's done," Moomin mumbled eventually, then stood up and repeated firmer. "Yes, it's definitely done. I'll show you." He held out a paw and Snufkin took it.

They walked the short distance to the river. The weather was calm, not the heat of summer in full swing yet, but getting there. The water was pretty stagnant for this time of year anyway as they stood on the riverbank, hand in hand, staring at their reflection.

Moomin had done an admirable job this time as well, taking the longer stands of either side of his face and braiding them in simple patterns, decorated with the stray flower here and there. At the back they joined together, where the rest hung loosely onto his shoulders.

"It's really pretty," He said, watching the way the current distorted their image just the tiniest bit. "But you do surprise me. Where did you even learn to do this?"

"Your sister taught me," Moomin admitted. "Your oldest sister." He clarified after a moment, because truly Snufkin had a lot of sisters to choose from. "She lived with us for a while. Maybe she could teach you too?"

"Maybe," Snufkin answered. "Thought that would mean you wouldn't need to do it for me anymore and that would be a misfortune. Thank you, my love."

And then he decided to do something a bit daring and pressed a kiss to the side of Moomin's snout. They had quickly learned kissing in the traditional sense was a cumbersome undertaking for them due to their differences in facial structure. But so far they had made it work.

Moomin seemed to like it anyway, as he startled just the tiniest bit before squeezing his hand. "S-Sure," He said but it wasn't hard to see how pleased he was. "I think it is about time for lunch. Should we be getting back?"

"Perhaps," Snufkin hadn't let go of his paw though. They were so very soft. He hadn't really noticed that before. "Or perhaps we could stay just a little while longer?"

With a hum in agreement, Moomin turned back to the river, still mirroring them so perfectly. He didn't talk this time, content in the silence.

Snufkin liked that most of all.


	6. Alternate Universe

**Day 7: Alternate Universe. I couldn't decide between doing Hanahaki Disease AU or Soulmate AU so I did them both muahahaha**

* * *

Snufkin had honestly assumed the disease would pass him by.

It wasn't unheard of. There were plenty of people who never grew their flowers. Who never developed the symptoms and lived just fine. Who traveled the world and never found petals stuck to the corners of their mouth, the taste of iron on the back of their tongues. Who loved people and left people and weren't destined for that lasting connection that was spoken of so wistfully in pieces of romantic poetry and prose.

His father had been one of those people. Of course he had been, The Joxter wasn't one for sticking to one place or person, instead chasing his enjoyments wherever he went. For him to have a soulmate would have been absurd.

And with everybody commenting about how alike they were, how similar, it wasn't exactly strange that Snufkin had spent his entire life thinking he wouldn't be any different. He would come of age and nothing would change. He would never have blossoms tearing at the insides of his lungs.

Maybe that is why he didn't recognize the pain for what it was at first. It was a sharp throbbing inside his chest, uncomfortable for a while and then growing bad enough to make his eyes water. He hunched at the side of the river and tried to breathe through it with deep inhales of air that only made the pain worse. He coughed, feeling like he couldn't stop. Like something was ripping apart inside of him.

It forced its way up his throat, bitter and vile and he heaved into the river, trying not to think of the drops of red disappearing into the current. Or the similarly colored petals floating lazily on top of the water.

Snufkin blinked at them numbly. His chest still hurt, but it was more of a throbbing ache against his sternum. The small roots anchoring themselves into his flesh, he realized. And they would continue to do so, continue to grow, until he found-

No.

He shuddered, grabbing his own elbows as if that would hide him against the truth. This couldn't be happening. This was just a bad dream. There was nobody in the world who would love him.

He'd be stupid to think otherwise.

* * *

Moomin was probably the only person who was excited for the disease to develop inside him.

It was silly. Dangerous too. They had gotten ample warning of that, practically raised on the belief that those who never got it were the lucky ones.

The idea that there was somebody in the world, anybody, that was destined to love and cherish you so unconditionally was, of course, something to be happy about. But even as little kids they were put to bed with stories of those who didn't find their mate in time. Those in who the disease only festered, rotted, breaking through their tissue and eating them up inside.

When he felt the ache for the first time he put a paw against his chest and held it there, waiting, as if maybe if he tried hard enough he could physically feel the flowers blossoming inside his ribcage. It hurt a lot. It wasn't pleasant at all, not in any way the magical experience some wrote about.

And his mother rubbed his back in slow circles as he retched that first time, wheezing against the petals getting stuck in his throat, scratchy and wet and tasting like spring. But eventually it passed and Moomin wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Dear," Moominmamma muttered, pulling him close and Moomin smiled into her chest. "Oh, my Dear." And there were tears in her eyes too.

"Isn't it wonderful, Mamma?" He said. "Isn't it wonderful there is somebody like that out there."

Mamma shook her head but Moomin only gripped her tighter. He could understand her fright of course, but he was nearly light-headed with excitement.

Moomin had a soulmate. And he didn't have a single doubt on his mind that he was going to find them sometime soon.

* * *

There are some problems that, if you manage to ignore them long enough, they just fade away on their own.

This clearly wasn't going to be one of those problems.

The pain persisted, distant and constant and then when Snufkin least expected it shooting through him until he felt like he was suffocating. It startled him, how hard to ignore it became. For the first few weeks it maybe only happened once or twice a day, but after a while it happened so frequently it kept him from traveling as fast and far as he liked.

The flowers had grown considerably in size by now and when he started coughing up fully blossomed specimens he was able to recognize them for what they were. Red astilbe, soft and feathery and beautiful.

Snufkin didn't know what that meant, though he knew it was supposed to mean _something_. He never had much of an education, but even he hadn't escaped the exuberant stories that were told to little children about the disease and the way it manifested.

Every flower had a meaning, a language, and the ones blossoming in his lungs right now should mean something about his elusive soulmate. The one he was still sure didn't actually exist. There were people who had made a profession out of consulting the sufferers on what their flower might mean, willing to point them in the right direction for the right price.

Because if you didn't find them in time, well...

Snufkin hung his head, taking deep breathes through the throbbing inside him. He wiped his paws against his mouth and ignored the smear of blood that left behind. Astilbe didn't mean anything. Soulmates didn't mean anything.

Snufkin just wasn't going to think about it.

* * *

Moominmamma skimmed through the book anxiously, while Moomin tried to sit still on his chair. The pain had become more frequent, as had the need to expel the flowers. Mamma had tried to give him something to make it hurt less, but it hadn't helped much.

"Ah," She said, putting the book down on the table so he could look. "These ones maybe?"

Moomin looked at the picture on the page and nodded. "That's them for sure."

"Hydrangea," His mother read. "Purple ones mean-" She trailed off, furrowing her brow thoughtfully. Moomin tried to get a peek but it was hard to read upside down.

"What is it, Mamma?"

"It's gratitude," She said eventually, turning the book around for him. "Gratitude at being understood."

"So my soulmate is somebody who does not feel understood?" Moomin ventured carefully. Interpretations of the flowers were always difficult, because the description ended up being vague. But he felt a little more excitement at maybe finding out something about this mysterious person.

"Perhaps," His mother said, closing the book. "Perhaps they are somebody that feel they are difficult to get along with?"

"Not for me!" Moomin answered eagerly, leaning both elbows on the table and resting his face on his paws. "For me they will be the most perfect person in the world."

"I don't doubt it," His mother laughed softly, but her eyes were edged with worry still. It has been a few weeks now since the disease made itself known, and Moomin had been doing nothing but running all around the valley, looking for this mysterious person whose touch would instantly make the pain go away.

She remembered herself when she met his father and she wished nothing more than for Moomintroll to find that same happiness. But so far nothing had happened. Her son looked at this like he did anything: with unwavering optimism and expectation. But the reality of the situation was too hard for her to ignore.

There was always the chance of not finding your person. That the disease would fill your lungs with blood and chunks of flesh, shred you to pieces until you suffocated on love.

And if it came to that, she knew Moomin wouldn't be able to do anything but let it happen.

* * *

Snufkin knew he wasn't going to make it much further like this.

He laid on his side, curled in on himself involuntarily. He was biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, but there was already blood in his mouth. Sickly sweet petals clinging together, moist globs of them. It was disgusting.

He sat up with difficulty, trying to force oxygen into his torn lungs but it was useless. He could feel the roots clawing at the edge of his throat, tearing his insides apart.

"Have you come to watch me die?" He asked.

The Joxter crouched in front of him, head tilted to one side. His eyes were wide, but Snufkin couldn't read his expression through his own blurry vision. He coughed up another mess of flowers.

"Astilbe," His father said distantly, spitting out the word with apparent contempt. "The same as me even."

"The same as what?" Snufkin managed between painful inhales, the blood sticking to his chin. He was dizzy, nauseous, and now the Joxter was adding confusion to the mix as well.

"Me," He brushed some strands of hair from Snufkin's face, as a father should. Joxter had never been a father to him before.

"Don't lie to me," He tried pushing him away, but the lack of air was making it hard. The Joxter stopped of his own accord and stared at him. "You don't have a soulmate."

"I don't," He confirmed scrunching up his nose at the smell of bile and blood.

It was hard to concentrate so Snufkin closed his eyes instead. The pain was subsiding a bit, engulfing him in lazy waves that seemed to slowly wash over him less and less. But the next time might prove fatal. "I don't understand."

The Joxter didn't answer immediately, so Snufkin thought he might have left, his senses too muddled to tell. But when his father spoke again it was quietly, right by him.

"Astilbe is a cruel flower. It means 'waiting for somebody always'. I couldn't stand that thought. I didn't want somebody to have to wait for me, not even if they were my mate," His voice was low, gentle, but devoid of gravity. "So I did what was needed to get rid of it."

Snufkin was gasping for breath at this point, forcing his eyelids open just a crack and Joxter hovered over him. "I didn't think... people did that anymore?"

"It's frowned upon yes," The Joxter bend over him, his smile was a permanent feature on his face, but Snufkin could see it for what it was now, emotionless. "But for the right price you can always find a doctor willing to do what's necessary. I paid the price. And so did you, didn't you, son?"

Snufkin shook his head, the pain reduced to its dull aching once more, the garden burrowing deeper into his flesh every second. "You could never have loved me."

"Never. Though if it's any consolation, I wasn't a very good person to begin with."

With a grunt, Snufkin forced himself upright. Joxter looked at him a moment more, before turning away again, shrugging his shoulder carelessly.

"I recommend you take care of this," He threw back over his shoulder. "Or you could always head to the valley. A little birdie told me there is somebody there suffering quite the same fate."

Snufkin watched him go, trying to stop shaking so badly. The flowers smelled strong, sweet with the scent of summer, but sour like they were already rotting inside him. He had no more time to think about this. If he didn't decide fast enough-

He didn't want to die.

* * *

Moomin threw back the blankets as soon as his mother had closed the door behind her.

He had been too sick to be allowed out for a few days now. His friends came to visit sometimes, but he saw it just made them sad, seeing him like this. And the way his mother and father whispered together made him scared.

He knew they meant well, the disease had gotten bad enough that it was hard for him to walk or talk or even think really. But how was he going to find his soulmate if he wasn't allowed to look for them?

He staggered to the window, opening it and feeling the cold air brushing against his face. He climbed out, trying not to fall off the ladder with how light-headed he was. He almost lost his footing on the last few steps though, landing ungracefully on his back. Coughing, he got up, swallowing some of the purple petals down again.

Moomin didn't know where he was going. He had been all over the valley already, searching every nook and cranny, but he hadn't found what he was looking for. Maybe his soulmate wasn't in the valley at all, he thought. Maybe he would never find them.

It was a frightful thought, so he walked into the forest instead, keeping close to the winding river. The stories said that you and your soulmate were just destined to meet. Destined to be together.

But now Moomin wasn't so sure anymore.

He had to stop from time to time, resting against a tree or large rock. He knew he was getting too weak, his vision dark around the edges. He wished he was back at home.

"Oh," He breathed, flower stems closing his throat up too tight to speak properly. He blinked at the sight before him. "H-hey, are you ok?"

The boy didn't stir, though as far as Moomin could tell he wasn't sleeping or unconscious. His face was scrunched up in pain and his breathing was unsteady. Moomin tried to get closer, but his legs were a bit wobbly, and he had a hard time getting there. He crawled the last few inches, looking down at the boy curiously despite his own predicament.

"Did you get hurt?" He asked, reaching out one paw to shake the boy's shoulder.

The change was instantaneous. Like magic.

It felt strange, as if something inside him was shriveling up and growing smaller. But as it did so it took the pain with it, shrinking down into small pinpricks before disappearing completely. He sighed, and as the last few petals fell from him it was like breathing for the very first time.

The boy groaned softly, blinking his eyes open and staring up at Moomin. They were almost brown, but with small flecks of bright sunlight along the edges. They were beautiful. The most beautiful thing Moomin had ever seen, and he never wanted to look away again.

Oh.

"Are you ok?" He asked again, sitting back a bit when the boy struggled upright, one hand clasped to his chest like he couldn't quite believe he was still alive.

"Uhm," He looked away at their surroundings, then back at Moomin himself. "I believe so."

The sun didn't shine down with heavenly light from the sky. There was no music playing, birds serenading them or fireworks. The earth kept spinning and time refused to stop in its tracks for them. None of those things Moomin had read about in the stories happened.

And yet he couldn't be happier.

"Does this mean?" The boy asked reluctantly, and he seemed embarrassed by the situation, hiding his face behind an old green hat.

"Yes," Moomin held out his paw to help him up. "I'm Moomintroll. I'm your soulmate."

The boy looked pained, despite the disease having withered in his lungs as well the moment they touched. "Snufkin."

"Do you want to come to my house?"

Snufkin sighed, finally taking the offered paw and getting up himself. He let go again immediately though, instead occupying himself with brushing the dirt off his pants. "I uh, I don't really- I mean, I don't like sleeping indoors. I travel a lot and I have a tent."

Moomin blinked at him for a second before grinning wildly. "You can set it up by the bridge then while you're here. It's a really lovely place, you'll see."

For some reason Snufkin looked relieved at those words, and he nodded. "That'd be lovely."

They walked home together. Moomin couldn't stop thinking of how happy his parents would be that he had found Snufkin. His very own soulmate who slept in tents and traveled the world and had the most beautiful brown eyes.

Maybe it wouldn't be exactly like in the stories, but he was sure it would suit them just fine.


End file.
